


Beyond The Sea

by sg_wonderland



Series: Change the Sky [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Magnavox wanted a sequel to “Change the Sky”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond The Sea

I hang up the phone with a grimace. Well, it wasn’t like this was unexpected. They did tell me that I would probably have to testify if this ever came to trial. So, I’m off to tell the general that I need some time off because the French court system is requesting the honor of my presence starting the first day of July. And that the French president’s charge d’affaires has politely asked for my commanding officer’s phone number because Monsieur President is also requesting an evening of my time. I call Walter who tells me the general can give me a few minutes right now if I hurry. So I do.

*

“Of course we’ll re-arrange your schedule, Dr. Jackson. We wouldn’t want to ruin the fine relationship we have with the French government.” For some reason, I feel the need to apologize but the general waves me off. “It’s not your fault, Dr. Jackson. You’ll need to let Colonel O’Neill know, see if he needs to shift some of your assigned missions or request a replacement for you.” Sounds like a dismissal to me so I stand and give him a smile before I leave him.

So, next stop, Jack’s office. Where he really does spend time, despite what he alleges. He’s on the phone but waves me in with an impatient gesture. Don’t know who that’s for, me or the person on the other end of the line. I’m glad that Jack and I have been able to return to how things used to be. We were a bit awkward with each other there for awhile and I have noticed that invitations to his house aren’t as forthcoming as they once were. But that may be as much him trying to make things easier for me than his reluctance to have me in his home.

“I’m well aware of that, Major. But it’s my considered opinion that any world that has even the slightest indication of Goa’uld activity in, oh say, the past hundred years, needs to be treated with extreme caution. You don’t want to get caught off-world with one of the snake-heads between you and the gate, trust me.” He rolls his eyes and makes an impatient motion with his hand that clearly says ‘get on with it.’

I can see this may take awhile, so I snag a sheet of paper and write ‘LATER?’ in big, bold letters. Jack shakes his head vehemently and points emphatically to the chair. “As a matter of fact, Major, the object of your affection just walked into my office, so let me have a chat with Dr. Jackson,” he emphasizes my name, “and I’ll get back to you.” He ends the conversation by simply hanging up on whatever hapless Major has evidently asked for my company on some mission of vital importance. “Now I know how the father of the homecoming queen must have felt.”

“Excuse me?” I wheeze out.

“I have turned down so many young men who want to take you out that I’m thinking about setting up a 1-800 line right here in my office.”

He is, of course, exaggerating. There are plenty of SGC teams who wouldn’t take me on a dare. Or so I inform Jack.

“You’re the one who’s delusional, Daniel. Since your triumphant return, I have had no less than twelve requests for you to accompany another team to see some ruins of galaxy-shattering proportions.”

“I haven’t noticed myself going out with any other teams.” I remark.

“That’s ‘cause I told all of them no, no and no in a variety of ways. You’re not going anywhere without at least one member of SG-1.” My expression must give me away because he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What, Daniel?”

“I need some time off, the first week of July.”

“Because?”

“Because I have to go to France.” I mutter, quite unable to meet those triumphant eyes.

“Because?” He inquires with inexorable smugness. “No, let me guess. You have to go testify at some whack-job’s trial?”

I stiffen at his tone. “He wasn’t a whack-job, he was just confused.”

“Daniel, he pointed a gun at twenty-four children, one of which was his own. And several adults, one which was…um…mine. So, yes, I take offense to his…offenses. And I’ll submit my request for time off.”

“Excuse me?” I think I’m wheezing again and my shortness of breath has nothing to do with allergies.

“Did I not just say that you’re going nowhere without at least one member of SG-1? Besides, I really didn’t get to see anything of Paris the last time I was there. You at least owe me a tour of the city.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because it was your fault you got taken hostage, therefore you owe me big time. Tour of the city, dinner at one of those snooty restaurants? Yeah, that might just about make it up to me. Get reservations in a nice hotel, will ya? You make enough money to spring for something other than the damn Holiday Inn. Go away now, I’m busy.”

*

So here we are, jetting across the Atlantic, me and a smugly superior Air Force colonel. The attendants stop nearly every trip up or down the aisle; Jack certainly has them wrapped around his little finger. 

Since Jack insisted this was first class all the way, I hired a driver to pick us up at the airport. If I thought it would embarrass him to be driven through downtown Paris in a limo, I would be very mistaken. He took it as his due, had the driver circle the Eiffel Tower at least once before we disembarked at a very swank hotel with a great view of the Tower. The Hotel de Crillon is a former 18th century palace that’s been converted into a luxury hotel. 

Jack knows I speak French, but he still can’t help but beam with pride when I greet the doorman and the desk clerk in their native tongue. Contrary to popular belief, most French are not snooty but quite down to earth. Within minutes we, and our luggage, are whisked up the elevator into a suite that takes even my breath away. While our luggage is wheeled into the bedrooms, Jack walks over and pulls the curtains to make sure they weren’t fudging about the view. They weren’t; it’s spectacular.

“Did I get my money’s worth?” I ask as I tip the bellhop, thank him softly.

“Oh, yeah, you certainly did.” He leaves the curtains open, flops down on the huge bed. And then wriggles around. “God, I could marry this bed!”

I give him a pitying glance as I walk out. “That would make for a difficult honeymoon.”

I’m not surprised that he follows me into the other bedroom, where I start unpacking. “So, what now?”

“Well, if you’re tired, we can get room service. Or we can go out and eat. Your choice.”

“Go out, I didn’t come all this way to eat a cheeseburger and watch television I can’t understand. Casual or dress up?”

“Casual, if it’s all the same to you. I’ll be wearing a suit to court and dinner at the President’s house is formal.” Jack grimaces because that means Mess Dress for him; I can escape with a tux. “Besides, I think it’s a shame to come all this way and not get a nice suit. The French just have a flair for tailoring.”

Jack falls to the bed in mock-alarm. “Who are you and what have you done with my Daniel? The plaid wearing geek I know and love?”

“He walked into a store and realized he could afford all the pretty things in the window.” Actually, this is the first time in my life that I have ever been able to drop a grand on a suit. I’m not saying I don’t sweat a bit as I hand over my credit card but I’ve learned to appear nonchalant about it. And Jack so doesn’t need to know that I’ve already pre-ordered a couple of suits; sent them my measurements already, I just have to go in for a final fitting. God bless the internet. “So you want to change before we head out.”

“Time for a shower?” I nod at him, traveling, even first class, makes me feel grubby too. 

*

He is the king of the three-minute shower. By the time I’ve showered and changed into jeans and a light sweater, he’s found the remote and is flipping through the French television. “Isn’t that that cooking lady?”

“Mmm, I think so.” I frown at the screen. “I didn’t think you watched anything but ESPN and CNN.”

“Forgot the adult channels.” He flips the set off.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget those?” I stick the keycard in my back pocket. “Ready?”

“Before we go, can I just say one thing?”

I pause as I grasp the door handle, puzzled at the odd expression on his face. “Sure.”

“You look good enough to eat.”

“Oh, umm,..” I can’t think of one single thing to say.

*

“I wonder if the Air Force has a base here in France?” Jack is piled into a corner of the elevator. “That was the best damned roast beef I ever put in my mouth.”

I have to agree, it was wonderful. We managed to find a restaurant within walking distance of the hotel so we are chock full of good food and wine.

Our suite is dark and cool; instead of turning on the lights, Jack opens the blinds and lets the Paris skyline illuminate the room. He stretches out on the couch and I kick my shoes off and make myself comfortable in the window seat.

“So, what time do you have to be in court tomorrow?”

“Nine.” I squint at my watch; the time difference is just starting to register with me. I still feel like it’s afternoon, not ten o’clock at night. So much for a good night’s sleep.

He sighs loudly. “I’m still on Colorado Springs time.” We sit silently for a long time. “Did you like it here? Before?”

“Yeah, yeah, I did. The people were nice and when I finally decided to go back to work, it…helped.”

He sits up, faces me. “Are we ever gonna talk about why you ran?”

I’m glad the light is behind me, so he can’t see my face. I wind my arms around my up drawn knees. “Because I was afraid.”

“I don’t believe that. You may be a lot of things, Daniel, but you’ve never been a coward.” I keep my gaze firmly turned toward the window, not answering. His voice is gentle when he speaks. “What were you afraid of, Daniel?” 

“Of losing you,” I whisper to the window.

“That wasn’t going to happen, Daniel.” My head jerks up. Instead of staying on the couch like he’s supposed to, he’s standing beside me, leaning against the wall.

I make myself face him, shaking hands still wrapped around my legs. “Didn’t it?”

With a weary sigh, he pulls the chair from the desk, sits facing me. “And if it did, whose fault was that? You were pulling all the strings, making all the decisions.” 

“Because I knew what would happen. You’d say no and I’d lose you anyway. Better to just leave things the way they were.”

“With me being ignorant and you eating your heart out? Did it seem better to you? Truthfully, Daniel, did it work?”

I lean my head back against the wall. “No. No, it didn’t work. I couldn’t see you every day and not wonder why. Why it had to be you, why I loved you, why I couldn’t just love someone else.”

“Someone a bit more convenient?” His tone is wry. I nod in agreement. “Sha’re…”

I interrupt him. “This was never, ever about Sha’re. I loved her. I’ll never forget her, I’ll never forgive myself but I can live with that now.” I still struggle with the regret, the blame and probably always will. “The knowledge that she’s better off now, that no one can hurt her anymore, that I can’t hurt her anymore.” My voice wobbles and I struggle to hold on to my emotions. “Loving you didn’t negate what I felt for her.”

I feel him shove me over and he sits down opposite me, his hand squeezes my knee. I still won’t open my eyes, won’t look at him. “God knows I’m not the easiest person to get along with, to get to know. And I have to ask myself the same thing. Why me? You’re young, single and, if Carter can be believed, you’re reasonably attractive.” His hand squeezes my knee, slides down my leg to encircle my ankle. “You probably wouldn’t have to look too far for a date. I just don’t know why you kept looking at me.”

His hand is big and strong and warm around my ankle, his thumb idly stroking the bones in my foot. And it’s because of that unknowing hand that I find the courage to lift my head to look at him. “I think it’s because we were both looking in the same direction. At each other.”

His hand stills for a moment, then resumes the gentle caress. Those brown eyes are rueful for a moment, then resigned. “I’m a little slow, aren’t I?”

“I…I wasn’t sure,” I offer tentatively. “Not at first, anyway.”

Jack is nothing if not brutally fair with himself. “Doesn’t paint me in a very good light. If what you’re saying is true, and I have to believe it is since you’ve had more time to sort it out, then I’ve been going around indiscriminately having sex with whomever because I can’t have sex with you.”

That’s pretty much the conclusion that I came to after P3R-118 but I can’t say the words. “In your defense…”

“Yes, by all means, let’s try to justify it, shall we?” I know his anger is with himself, not me.

I try again. “In your defense, Jack, you didn’t know. And…” My voice peters out.

“And it’s not like you could tell me, either.” His head flops back, hitting the wall with a decided thud. “God, what a mess! Living sci-fi is bad enough, now I gotta live a sci-fi soap opera.” He tries for humor and I smile to appease him. It doesn’t take long for him to bounce back. “So what do we do now?”

“What we’ve always done, Jack. We make the best of it.”

“What time is it?” He asks abruptly.

I glance at my watch. “Paris time, it’s eleven fifteen.”

“So we’re off the clock?”

I frown at him. “I guess. Why?”

“Because I want to try something and I don’t want to do it on Air Force time.” His eyes meet mine and a slow, slow smile spreads across his face. I feel my face flush at the intensity of those eyes. He hops down and grabs my hand, tugging me after him. “Come on.”

I plant my feet. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

I still don’t move. “Jack, I think we’re far better off if we don’t ‘try’ in close proximity of a bed.”

He gets behind me and starts to shove. “And we’re both too damned old to neck on a sofa. Will you move already?” With an exaggerated sigh, I let him manhandle me into his bedroom and onto the bed. Thankfully, he leaves the lights out so that the room is bathed in the moon and the sounds and smells of Paris at night. 

Anyone who thinks Jack can’t do romantic has sadly misjudged him, I think as I watch him light the candles on the tiny table over by the window. I force myself not to scoot away from his intense eyes. “Relax, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Without realizing I’ve moved, I end up jammed against the voluptuously padded headboard of the huge bed. The reason is because Jack pushed me there when he landed on top of me with a sound that sounded more like a Comanche war cry. Jack cleverly inserts himself between my legs, trapping me between his body and the headboard. “Jack.”

“Daniel.” He breathes on my cheek, his hands tilting my head, angling my mouth to his. I close my eyes as he nears me, wanting only to feel at this point. He goes straight for the jugular as he slides his tongue across my bottom lip long agonizing moments before he plunges in for a breath-taking, heart-stopping kiss. 

My hands, unsure of where to land, end up on his ribs, his sides, stroking the hard muscles. Jack murmurs his pleasure against my lips; emboldened, I slide my hands down, dislodge his shirt and slide up and under, finally touching warm flesh. The shudder beneath my hands tells me he likes this. I try to push the shirt over his head, but his mouth skids over my face, across my jaw, down my neck.

Finally, he sits back, his thumbs caressing my cheeks. I shudder before I open my eyes. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me but his eyes say it pleases him. “So,” he drawls, “what did we learn?”

“We learned that I should probably go sleep in my room.” My body, however, doesn’t agree, as it makes no move to vacate Jack’s bed any time soon.

“That seems to be the wisest decision.” He hesitates with a knowing leer. “You gonna?”

“Oh, hell, no,” I slide down so that I’m lying flat underneath him, stuffing pillows beneath my head. “Just don’t let me be late for court in the morning, okay? I don’t want to try to explain that.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack drapes the bedspread across his back, enclosing us in a soft cotton tent. “You’ll be up long before then.”

I groan in mock dismay as he lowers himself to pin me to the bed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”


End file.
